


Yours If You Want It

by thedarkestdaisy



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestdaisy/pseuds/thedarkestdaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it would turn out I just enjoy being with him now. And when ever we go back to Willoughby I find myself impatient for the next assignment from Blanchard. Because as much fun as it is to hang out and flirt with the other guys in town it just… doesn't feel right. Nothing compares to the time I get with Bass.</p>
<p>And it's only now, in this moment, that I realize why.</p>
<p>“So are you coming to Grandpa's tonight for Thanksgiving?” I ask conversationally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours If You Want It

Bass and I have gone on a lot of jobs for Blanchard lately; working in tandem with the Rangers to eradicate leftover Patriots waiting for their chance at revenge on the Texas. It took weeks of Blanchard begging me to team up with Bass and a bottle of fine whiskey. It didn't take me very long to realize that somehow Miles really did turn me into his mini-me and now that mom has decided he's not going to be running around stirring up trouble with Bass it was only a matter of time before I stepped in. Because honestly I have no idea what to do in this town. 

We've been good so far. Bass usually takes lead but gives me enough freedom to make my own decisions which helps when I turn out to be right almost seventy percent of the time. I like working with him too. We have a good system and I know he'll always have my back and take everything I say into consideration. Plus, he's pretty funny once he stops being so bitter about everything that's ever happened to him. I enjoy egging him on to the point his jaw tightens and he glares at me. As it would turn out I just enjoy being with him now. When it's just the two of us I see more of him than he's willing to show others. And when ever we go back to Willoughby I find myself impatient for the next assignment from Blanchard. Because as much fun as it is to hang out and flirt with the other guys in town it just… doesn't feel right. Nothing compares to the time I get with Bass.

And it's only now, in this moment, that I realize why.

“So are you coming to Grandpa's tonight for Thanksgiving?” I ask conversationally. The bench of the wagon is cold and hard under my butt. I pull my jacket tighter around my body as the afternoon wind chill finds a way in through an open seam on my shoulder that needs mending. “Conner said he might drop by after dinner with Meredith's family.”

“I don't think I'm gonna make it tonight actually.” He says as he leans back in his seat nonchalantly. We both let out a sigh when the dead tree that got struck by lightening last year comes into view telling us there's only about a mile between us and home. 

“Yes, you can.” I roll my eyes in exasperation. The feud between him and my mother is long forgotten. Well, long forgotten- _ish_. There's still that _you held me hostage for years and murdered hundreds of people/ yeah, well you destroyed the entire world with a science project you two-timing bitch_ tension that floats just above their icey tone with each other. But on a positive note Miles and I are just happy that they can be civil to each other without all the passive aggressive death threats. “Mom said she'll be nice as long you and Miles don't pass out on the front porch drunk again.”

“Actually I've already got plans.” 

“Getting drunk in your house by yourself isn't really a plan, ya know.” I cross my arms over my chest and give him a look of derision. 

“You know I don't drink much anymore.” He counters with a wince. It's true, though. Before we took the job he'd be in bars chatting up women and drinking or passed out in his house with a hangover days in the making. When we started working together it was one of my conditions- that he clean himself up because I wasn't going to drag his buzzed and grumpy ass across the country running after people who would prefer not to be found. 

“Well, what are you doing then?” Okay, I'll admit that my curiosity is peaked. Miles and Bass always make time for each other on the holidays and I usually end up hanging out with them because they are way more fun than a judge-y mother. 

“Got a date.” He says quietly, shifting his position again and tightening his grip on the reigns of the two horses. 

“A date?” I repeat quietly. That's different. 

Bass doesn't usually do dates or anything that lasts longer than one night. I feel a little frozen. I have to remind myself to blink and breathe and do something other than stare stupidly at him as he keeps his eyes focused on the well worn gravel road. As far as I know he hasn't been with anyone in a while. I guess he was getting sick of being lonely. I guess can understand that. Despite many disgusting and genuine offers of dates or fun sleepovers I feel lonely too. But I'm with Bass so much these days that it never really bothers me. I try not to let my shock and disappointment seep into my voice as I ask for more information. “What kind of a date? With who? I didn't think people actually liked you.”

His shoulders shake as he snorts with muffled laughter. I glare at the road ahead of us, hoping he won't notice they way I grind my teeth to keep from saying anything that will hurt me or him. Because I want to- I really want to.

“A date. Hopefully dinner and then whatever happens after that.” Bass explains to me like I'm a child and it takes everything not to shove him off the bench of the wagon and ride home without him. I try not to let the thought of Bass spending time with another woman instead of me invade my mind but it takes hold quickly and spreads. Jealously oozes through me at the thought of someone having the gall to ask him out. Or did he ask her out? God, for some reason that feels worse. 

Doesn't he know he's… well he's _not_ mine so I suppose he doesn't really know anything. But doesn't he feel it too? The sense of loss between jobs where we go for days without see each other is overwhelming sometimes. I get stuck thinking about him and then wondering if he's thinking about me and then hating myself for feeling that way. Does he miss not seeing me before he goes to sleep when we're out on the road? Because I do- it's near impossible to sleep without the soft tone of his snore beside me now. I go days into depressions without seeing him and then suddenly he'll be there in Mom and Miles' kitchen saying hello and asking me about my day and it's like the world has opened up and invited me in again and all I care about is having as much time as I can with him. But is it possible that he somehow prefers the days without me than the ones he has to spend with me? 

“Who is she?” I find myself asking. I just know I'm going to immediately hate this person whether I know her or not. He briefly turns his head to look down at me before facing forward again with a small frown.

“She's just some woman, Charlotte.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in the seat. His answer is elusive and vague on purpose and I hate him. 

“And you're ditching us on Thanksgiving to hang out with her instead?” I ask lightly. “Sounds like more than just some woman. Do I know her?” His head tilts for a second and I think he's just going to ignore me until we get back. I play it off as annoyance- rolling my eyes and tapping my foot. My eyes burn and I'm not really sure that I can blame it on the dusty gravel getting kicked up from the horses hooves. It feels like something heavy is sitting on my chest- heavier than words and heavier than feelings.

“Yeah. You know her,” is all he says as he effortlessly slows the horses down as we approach the gate guarded by Rangers. They have their guns trained on us before one calls them off. He and Bass subtly nod at each other as we pass the entrance. I continue to stare straight ahead because I don't think I can look at Bass right now without feeling something painful. I bite my lip to hold my tongue fearing what I'll say next.

The town is quiet with little to no activity. The market and shops are closed for the holiday and there are only a few people milling about. People are most likely spending the day with loved ones or attending services at the churches. That's good because I'm feeling very volatile right now and I'm not sure I'll be able to keep my mouth in check if someone talks to me. I don't even want to see Mom, Miles or Grandpa right now. I just want to go to my duplex, find a bottle of something strong, crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head until the thought of Bass- the thought of not getting a chance to be with Bass, hurts less.

“D'you want me to drop you off at your Grandpa's?” He asks softly. “I can take this guy to Blanchard and debrief him myself if you want.” He tilts his head to gesture back at the locked cabin at the bed of the wagon. Our bounty is passed out and pig-tied awaiting his meeting with Blanchard. He probably wants to get rid of me so he can rush things along to get to his date. 

“Why don't you just drop me off at my place?” I suggest while digging around at my feet through my bag for my keyring. The duplex is coming up in the next block and he mutters an okay under his breath. I think he knows I'm pissed off but now. Good, I want him to know. Fucking jerk breaking my stupid fucking heart.

Bass slows down to a stop at my charming brick duplex. My neighbor is gone judging from the pitch black windows on her side. It will be just me tonight. I hop off the side of the wagon and pull my bag down. I'm too angry to say goodbye or anything as I walk away and pull my key out. Only when the door shuts behind me do I hear the sound of the horses and the wagon again.

I strip my clothes off and start a fire to light the lanterns and warm some water for a quick spit bath. My thoughts travel to Bass as I work and scrub off the dust and oil. My face crumbles with grief when I feel the first tear spill over my lashes. It's a stupid thing, too. To feel this way about a man whose only thoughts about me are to keep me alive and that I make him laugh on occasion. It shouldn't hurt this much but it does and every so often I have to stop in the middle of what I'm doing to take deep breaths in order to keep myself from entirely sobbing as I dress myself for bed in a t-shirt and old hand-me-down pajama bottoms.

In the kitchen I pull out the bottle of half-drunk whiskey Blanchard gifted me and briefly consider whether or not I should pour a glass and take it with me. Instead I take the bottle with me as I go around snuffing out candles and wiping tears from my face. I throw my head back to take a large gulp as I pull the covers down my bed and then another as I climb in. I lie back and focus on the burn in my throat and the pressure in my chest. After another swallow I reach out and gingerly place the bottle on the bedside table before pulling the covers over my head in a cocoon of sadness. 

I drift off to sleep with a buzz in my head and an ache in my heart.

 

It's dark when I wake up. My head hurts and my cheeks are chapped and all I want is to go back to sleep until the sound of pounding comes from the front room. Mom or Miles has probably come to check on me like they usually do when I come back from assignments. I really would like to ignore the sound because I honestly don't want to see or talk to anyone right now but the pounding doesn't let up. With a glare at my bedroom door I throw off the covers and drag myself to the front room. I compose myself as best as I can before opening the door to hopefully Mom or Miles with leftovers. But instead my heart does this stupid palpitation of joy at the sight of Bass leaning against the threshold and looking down at me with a concerned brow.

I want to throw my arms around him and shove him off the steps of the porch all at once. 

“Don't you have a date or something right about now?” My voice is rough with sleep but I'm sure he can pick up my pissy tone when the corner of his lips tilt up just a smidge.

“Would you like to have a date with me, Charlotte?” He asks quietly while holding up a box wrapped in cloth towels and two bottles of beer from the brewery on the other side of town. 

I understand the words he's saying but I'm having a hard time believing that he just said them until he repeats himself. I find myself nodding and opening the door wider for him to come in. He smiles brightly and then drops a kiss on my forehead before walking past me. I shut the door behind me still trapped in a state of shock. Maybe I didn't wake up and none of this is real- after all I do have some pretty vivid dreams of the man from time to time. Though they are way more graphic than kisses on the head.

He walks around lighting lanterns and it isn't until I hear him digging around in the kitchen that I'm able to finally talk again.

“What's going on?”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working soooooo much in order to get ready for my vacation and on top of that working on new fics and trying to finish the one Lemon has shamelessly kept reminding me about. Hopefully they will be posted soon for ya'll!


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